


The Devil Takes Care of His Own

by ALaterDate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Companion POV, First Meetings, For the most part, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALaterDate/pseuds/ALaterDate
Summary: Warden-Commander Surana arrives in the arling of Amaranthine to fight darkspawn and changes many lives during his stay at Vigil's Keep.
Kudos: 7





	1. Anders

Flames engulfed the last darkspawn in the room sending wild shadows across the walls. The door to the dungeon burst open just before the darkspawn burst into flames. As the creature struggled with its burning flesh and collapsed into a pile of its dead brethren—along with a few dead Templars—Anders swung around to face the two new faces. Hopefully not more Templars, but if they were he knew exactly how to get out of this situation. 

“Uh, I didn’t do it,” he said, looking back and forth between the dead Templars and the strangers. A mage could get into a lot of trouble for killing Templars. Not that he’d ever do that. Oh no. Not him. Never.

Anders searched the stranger’s faces to get a read on their attitudes. The tall woman’s face sat completely stoic, she apparently didn’t believe him. Go figure. The elf beside her, on the other hand, had a smile on his face. As if amidst chaos there is still amusement to be found. Something about the sharp eyes and the unruly white hair jogged Anders’ memory. “Hey, I recognize you from the Circle!” Anders pivots his hand in the air to show he’s only slightly certain then continues, “Vaguely. Irving’s pet project right? I wouldn’t go within two feet of the codger, so you and I never had a chance to talk. You haven’t come to take me back to the Circle have you?”

The elf’s face fell into a grimace. “I’m no one’s pet anything,” he said, his voice surprisingly light despite the threatening tone of the message. _That’s elves for you_ , Anders supposed.

“I see. I know what they say about me in the Circle too, but, as I said, this wasn’t my doing. Darkspawn attacked out of nowhere and just so happened to chew through the Templars first.” Anders shrugged.

“I don’t care about some useless Templars. I want these darkspawn out of my Keep.”

_Now that’s interesting_. “Your Keep? You’re a Grey Warden?”

“Not just a Grey Warden,” the woman piped up, “ _THE_ Grey Warden. Hero of the Fifth Blight. Warden-Commander Surana.”

“Well now, that’s quite the title you have there. Good for you. Tell you what, I’ll help you and we can discuss what comes later once all these bastards are properly put down, yes?”

The Warden’s face remained gripped by a disapproving frown with eyes sharpened further by wariness, he blinked slowly, not at all unlike a cat. In fact, so much so like a cat that Anders held back a chuckle lest he upset the man again.

“Do what you will,” the Warden said.

So Anders did, and followed the little, angry, cat-like elf out onto the battlements. A darkspawn seized upon them as they made their way across. Without a care, the Warden raised a hand in its direction and it halted in its tracks frozen solid. The Warden clenched his fist and the darkspawn shattered into little blocks of ice and innards. He stepped over its broken body like it was never there. Anders raised his eyebrows. _Definitely interesting_.

Anders sauntered up to his side. “Can I ask you something, uh, Commander, as a fellow Kinloch Hold...ian.”

“What?”

“What’s the state of your phylactery? I heard news some blood mage incident forced them to move all the vials to Denerim. Is yours there too?”

The Warden stopped in front of the door that would open up into the next building and turned to Anders. "I had Anora scour the Chantry's store rooms in Denerim, but she was told that all phylacteries of Ferelden mages entered into the Order are sent to Aeonar. Of all places." He smiled with a far off look in his eyes. "So, it's intact, for now." The Warden pushed through the door and greeted a swarm of darkspawn inside with a paralysis spell before pulling a sword out from under his robes and mercilessly hacking them down.

The Warden was surprise after surprise. Anders enjoyed surprises.

"I take it you're not opposed to destroying phylacteries. Else you wouldn't have searched for yours," Anders shouted over the fighting.

The Warden felled a beast before turning back. Some emotion clung to his face that Anders couldn't quite read through all the splatter on him. "Not at all," he said.


	2. Oghren

“Blasted ‘spawn!” Oghren shouted as he swung his axe in a full arc. It connected with the neck of a genlock, popping the head clean off. He charged at the next one, shoving the spear point atop his haft straight into its chest. It didn’t resist or struggle at all before collapsing into a heap at Oghren’s feet. Obviously the ‘spawn were too scared of his might to fight back! He hopped along to the next one. Gripping his axe tightly he pulled it all the way back ready to separate the top and bottom halves of the hurlock in his sights. It burst into flames. _Ancestors!_ They were just killing themselves now rather than fight him. The hurlock dissolved into black bones.

“There you are, you oaf,” came a voice.

Oghren looked up from the pile of ashes at his feet and, _by the stone_ , there he was. The old pal he saved Ferelden with, Lachlan Surana. Oghren let out an excited yell of triumph. The keep would be cleared of the ‘spawn and he’d become a Warden himself now that Lachlan was there. The elf wasn’t alone either. Alongside him stood a real babe of a human with big cute eyes and big other parts, and some bloke covered in feathers. “Oh ho! So that’s what took you so long, Lach? Well, the ‘spawn have no chance at all of infesting this keep now.”

“Oghren, don’t shorten my name.”

“Right, only yer boyfriend can call you that, huh. Wouldn’t do to have ya fallin’ in love with me, yer right.” Oghren laughed. “This beauty on the other hand is welcome to fall head over heels for all this.” He shook his hips around to show her what he’s got.

For some reason her face scrunched up. The feathered guy’s eyes were wide in shock, definitely intimidated. And Lachlan rubbed a hand on his forehead, probably trying to resist his charms for the hundredth time, must be getting tough.

“Oghren, just report the situation.”

“‘Course. The ‘spawn started seeping in a few days ago, but the numbers grew the closer you got to arrivin’. Almost like they knew ya were comin’, but in that case they shoulda ran the other direction! Now that you’re here we can find where the bastards are crawling out from and send ‘em back to the void.”

“None of the transfers from Orlais have arrived yet?”

“Nope. It’ll just be you and me saving the world again.”

“Wait,” the girl cut in, her voice like a melody, " _he’s_ a Warden?”

“Not yet, but Lachlan here is gonna let me join. Aren’t ya buddy?”

“Surely not,” the woman said.

Lachlan shrugged his shoulders. “Who am I to tell him ‘no’”

“T-the Warden-Commander that’s who,” the woman choked out.

“Listen Mhairi, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll die so why not let him try.”

What a jokester Lachlan was! Of course he’d let Oghren join the Order, he was always doing favors for his friends. Why, he dragged Oghren along all around Fereldan looking for that ox-man’s sword and for hours in the deeproads looking for that golem’s thaig!

“It’s settled then! Get to brewin’ up that Warden concoction! I’ve never met a woman or a drink I didn’t like!”


	3. Nathaniel

The dripping sound must have been some sort of torture. The cracked ceilings let leaks from the floors above slip through and create rivers to contribute to the dankness of the dungeon. If they were going to lock him up they could have found a more appropriate cell. He was a Howe afterall, his family built this town! Nathaniel kicked at the bars again sending another flurry of rust flakes to the ground. This wasn’t right. Damn the Wardens.

The door across from his cell finally creaked open. Nathaniel stood to his full height, ready for whatever may come.

“This is the one?”

“Yes, Commander. He was caught attempting to steal from the trophy room.”

“I can’t steal my own belongings. You Wardens are the dirty thieves here,” Nathaniel spat into the darkness.

A sconce on the wall lit up with a flame that spilled out then retreated to a reasonable size. Nathaniel clenched his jaw, he would not be intimidated, not even by magic. An elf walked into the light. Blue and white striped fabric covered him from his neck to his feet, twin silver griffons tacked on his chest caught the light and seemed almost to fly with the movement. A staff peeked out from behind him—not a simple thing either—twists of pointed tipped metal encasing an orb at the top, and at the bottom a block of steel like a bludgeon acted as counterweight.

“Who are you?” The elf asked.

Nathaniel could ask the same of him, but at a guess this was the leader of the Ferelden Wardens. The “hero” of the fifth Blight. The man who killed his father. Nathaniel swallowed his surprise at the stature of their leader. His magic must be powerful to make up for it. Somehow, he thought his father’s murderer would be more impressive looking. “I am Nathaniel Howe. Eldest son of Rendon Howe.”

The elf seemed to mull this over before turning to speak to his companion, “Someone I should know?”

Nathaniel rattled the bars. “You should! You killed him!”

“I’ve killed a lot of people.”

Of course he has, the bastard.

“Rendon Howe, the rightful Arl of Amaranthine and owner of Vigil’s Keep,” Nathaniel informed him as if he had truly forgotten.

“Oh? You mean the man who helped sell elves into slavery? The man who killed an entire family in Highever, including the children? Queen Anora granted this arling and its keep to the Wardens as recompense for his complicity in Loghain’s betrayal.”

“My father was an honorable man he would never—”

“He did. So, your father dies and you try to steal something from his trophy room? Leftover evidence of his crimes?”

“I want my grandfather’s bow. It’s an heirloom and it belongs to me. But if you deign to lock me up for taking my own property then you should kill me now because I won’t give it up.”

“Then this is your only choice,” the elf stepped forward to the cell bars and Nathaniel tried not to wince. What would be the manner of his execution: fire, ice, lightning, or the blade? Perhaps something far crueler only a mage would know how to do. The door shuddered open on its rusted hinges. “Take whatever the hell you want from that trophy room and never return.”

“You’re letting me go? And I can have the bow? Why?”

“I understand a certain attachment to sentimental things.” The elf raised his left hand and the firelight bounced off a silver band on his finger. “Someone I love gave me this ring and I’d destroy anyone or anything that tried to keep it from me.”

“But I’m your enemy.”

“You haven’t done anything to me, yet, and if you do, _then_ I’ll kill you.”

Nathaniel almost sputtered. Instead of preemptively preventing a revenge attempt here and now, he would truly let Nathaniel go and even give him a weapon? Was there really such honor in this man’s character? Was there really honor in the Grey Wardens? Nathaniel thought back on his father and how he had sent him off to the Free Marches, preferring Thomas to stay by his side. How he yelled at his mother except in the one instance that she suggested Nathaniel be squired under Rodolphe. Did his father really do the things he was accused of? And if not, how could Nathaniel clear his family name? There was only one way to know and it meant staying in the city and the keep. There was nowhere else for him to go anyway.

The Wardens, done with him, moved towards the door and were at the top of the steps before Nathaniel called out. “Wait!” The Warden-Commander turned back, a more imposing figure when looking down on him with those shining elves’ eyes. “I swear to do no harm to you or any Warden if you let me join the Order. Then I will be bound to your cause.”

The eyes disappeared then reappeared in a blink. “What you do now is your own responsibility. If that includes the Joining, so be it.”


	4. Sigrun

Darkspawn overwhelmed them. A swarm of black mass overtook the legion. Kal'Hirol felt like an ambush, but that couldn't be right, darkspawn aren't that smart. At least they're weren't supposed to be. Sigrun didn't even have time to shed tears over Varlan and the rest. She booked it toward the surface, anywhere would be better than in the catacombs. Falling into the sky, never to be seen again, would be infinitely better than what waited for her in the grasp of darkspawn. She refused to be captured by them. To be turned into a broodmother was a fate worse than death and she was already dead. Rotten hands gripped her with dirty claws sinking into her skin and dragged her back down into the tunnels. There was no honor in this. No debt forgiven. Sigrun’s throat squeezed in on itself and her jaw grew tight as she held back a sob. She wouldn’t cry.

High pitched howls from the shrieks pulling her down pierced her ears. They let go of her to grab at their own heads, panicked and thrashing. Then they set upon one another and Sigrun watched in horror and confusion as they ripped each other apart. She made sure to keep her mouth closed tight.

“Are you alright?” A calm voice called out to her.

She stood and turned toward the stranger. Dark inks in unfamiliar patterns ran across his face. She might have mistaken him for a foreign casteless if he wasn’t so obviously an elf. And a mage too. Whatever spell he cast on those shrieks, she didn’t want to know about it. Two humans flanked him at his sides, another mage and an archer, an odd sight.

“For a moment there I thought I was _really_ going to join the Legion of the Dead."

"There’s a Legion here?" The elf asked.

"Not anymore. Kal’Hirol was a massacre. I’m the last of my squadron, but maybe something remains. Thank you for the help, but I have to go back, see if there’s anything I can do about that army the darkspawn are breeding down there in the fortress.” As crazy as it sounded it was the only thing she _could _do. Return to the deeproads and try to die a better death this time.__

____

____

“We’ll go with you,” the elf offered.

“What? Didn’t you hear me? Kal’Hirol is a deathtrap.”

The elf’s expression didn’t change. He either didn’t understand or didn’t care. Maybe he wanted to die too.

“He’s a bit of a deathtrap himself,” the other mage chimed in.

The two humans laughed and the elf’s expression softened a fraction.

“Can’t say I don’t need the help, but why would you want to go down there?”

“We’re Grey Wardens,” the human mage answered.

“So you’ll throw your lives away down there just like the Legion then.”

“That’s not what we do,” the elf shook his head. “We want to live. We want our lives to mean something. And if we want to thrive, that means stopping the darkspawn and the blight. Throwing yourself recklessly into the darkness doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’m in the Legion _because_ my life doesn’t mean anything.”

“It could.”


	5. Velanna

The Wending Woods were hers. Nothing could drive her from there, not shems, darkspawn, or the meddling flat-ear. Velanna watched him and his friends hike the hillside. Her patience with them grew thinner by the second. This place was not for him. He walked around with those ugly marks on his face, a mockery of the Dalish vallaslin (though when she confronted him about them he would not admit it). Another city elf pawing at their culture, he would never understand what it was like for the Dalish. Even now he roamed with shems and children of the stone; the Dalish didn’t have the luxury of befriending those outside their clan. Not that Velanna would if she could have anyway. It was difficult enough inside the clan. The only companion she ever had was Seranni and now she was gone too, kidnapped by shems. She vowed to destroy them all to get her sister back.

The flat-ear rounded the hill. Too close now. Velanna rushed out onto his path to stop him from coming any further into the woods.

“I told you to stay away from here. To stay away from me!” She couldn’t help the way her voice cracked as she shouted. He needed to leave. To go away forever. Leave her to her search. To her vengeance.

“We need to talk.” His voice was calm, confident even.

What tricks would he try to pull on her? Enough was enough.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

Sylvans sprouted up at her will. The forest was hers to command. The right of the Keeper. But, he did not hesitate to cut them down. Fire spread from his hands, consuming, consuming. Didn’t he care at all about what he trampled down in his wake? She ran. Her feet knew this land, she didn’t have to think, only feel. The brush of leaves scraping against her exposed skin as she passed, the inclines and divots of the ground, the fallen branches waiting to cause disaster. These were hers. He shouldn't have been able to keep up with her, to hound her like a demon.

A clearing opened up before her. She would make her last stand there.

"You won't take me alive," she huffed.

The flat-ear also breathed heavily when he replied, "I'm not taking you anywhere. We just need to talk." He reached into a fold in his robes and pulled out a trinket. “About your sister.” He tossed the leather corded charm across the field to her.

Velanna caught it with ease. She gasped as she felt its familiar shape. The first Halla, Ghilan'nain. Ghilan'nain who was lured from her sisters with lies, before being murdered. Ghilan'nain who sought justice against those who wronged her.

“This is Seranni’s. She would never willingly part with this, our mother gave it to her before she died. Where did you get this?”

“I found it on a darkspawn. They’ve been playing you and the humans against each other.”

“Impossible. Darkspawn are mindless creatures.”

“There’s something different about these ones. They grow more cunning each day.”

“Then _they_ killed my people and took my sister?”

“Yes. Now, stop attacking my caravans. Those supplies are supporting my Wardens. We'll need them to find her.”

Velanna spun on him. “You want to find Seranni? Why? You said before that you don't care for the People."

“The darkspawn have been… collecting women. To make mothers. No one deserves such a fate.”

“Are you saying Seranni will _become_ one of them? I will not allow it! Where will you start? Do you know where they dwell?”

“As a Grey Warden I have the ability to track darkspawn. I will find them and I will find your sister. The state in which she returns to you is another matter.”

Tendons tightened around her staff. It would be so easy to drag this pissant into the ground, but she couldn’t fight the darkspawn on her own. Not yet. “ _I_ will find Seranni. Whatever it takes.”

"Then join me, but know it just might take your life."


	6. Justice

Pride kept the Baroness around all this time. She tormented the spirits of her former subjects for decades, growing stronger despite being trapped in the fade with them. The blood of The First made it possible for her to return to the world of the living, but she would not escape Justice. For Justice followed her into the immutable world, though he knew not what it held.

On the other side of the veil the whole of him felt light, too light. He struggled to keep form, to mirror the heroic visage that represented the noble quality of his being. Piece by piece he began to fade away. He cried out. Something cried back. Then a weight like never before pulled down on him. He came to in a corporeal form. Lifting limbs exerted a degree of effort he was not accustomed to. Each rise and fall of the chest a hollow imitation of life. The body that called him in was no more than a corpse. Nonetheless, he had a job to finish. The Black Marsh witch was in this world now too.

Pride finally burst from the flesh of the Baroness. She had been a demon in both life and death, now she simply looked the part. The task set before Justice and his new allies was clear; put pride down. The two mages proved adept at subduing the demon while Justice and the rogue chipped away at it. Pride screamed and thrashed, it’s outrage spilling forth as wisps of electricity. The smaller mage cast a barrier on each of his allies, making those demonic tendrils of power useless against them. The demon crumbled with their combined effort, dissolved into nothing and gone somewhere unknown, forever.

“With this my vow is fulfilled,” Justice said. “But I fear I am trapped here in the mortal realm. In the body of this... Grey Warden?”

The smaller mage, the… elf, returned his staff to his back before speaking, “You can’t return to the fade?”

“No spirit has ever returned from this world and leaving this body would kill me. I do not want to die. Yet, I have no purpose in this realm.” Justice looked around himself at the immovable walls, the shapes that did not bend to his will. Spirits held no interest in this side of the veil, thus he knew nothing about how to live in it. He looked back to the elf. “You seem to be a creature of good character, and you are of this world. Tell me, what should I do?”

The elf released a breath through his nostrils. “In this world, you do what you want. I can’t tell you how to live the rest of your life here.”

"I do not understand. I can not change the ground we stand upon or the scenery in which we exist. It seems there is very little I _can_ do here."

The elf sighed. "Then, if you like, you can continue what Kristoff started."

Justice looked within, into the memories of this body, this Warden. It was painful at first to take on the memories of a life with so many hurts, but they revealed the good nature of the man. Kristoff did not deserve to die. Not in the way he did. Confused and alone, searching for answers to questions he should not have known.

"Yes." Justice nodded. "This man, Kristoff, was slain by darkspawn. The one called The First stabbed him from behind. Though that creature is dead, the one who created him remains."

It was certainly unjust. Needed correction. Not vengeance, but Justice. Justice vowed to right this wrong, and a vow made by Justice was a vow kept.


	7. Lachlan

Despite all his powers, Lachlan could not be in two places at once. Word of the darkspawn army splitting their forces came too late to him in Amaranthine. The bulk of their numbers marched on Vigil’s Keep, only a small part kept pace into the city. A diversion. One that wouldn’t have even mattered had the damn nobles let him station more guards on the farm roads. A decision had to be made. Lachlan closed his eyes as he listened to Captain Aidan’s solution. Set fire to Amaranthine.

“Any city can be rebuilt, lost battles cannot be rewon.”

If the darkspawn took the Keep and killed the Wardens there, it would take too long to receive more reinforcements from Orlais. In the meantime, the darkspawn would triple their numbers, create more broodmothers, start a blight without a high dragon. Everything Lachlan had worked for in the past six months would come crumbling down. Not to mention, he would lose half of his personal retinue.

Setting fire to the city would stop the creatures from fleeing or diverting to the Keep. At worst a few more people died, at best they only lost their homes.

The quicker path to victory over the Architect and his rogue ilk was clear. Lachlan idly turned the ring on his finger round and round like a cog to match the wheels of his mind. He could not waste any more time dawdling. Another six months in Amaranthine cleaning up messes meant missing his best chance to find Morrigan. The ring was only supposed to work one way, but he could feel her on the other end of it, even if only faintly. Lachlan opened his eyes.

"Burn it to the ground. And kill the Architect's messenger."

Aidan nodded then rushed away to make Lachlan's orders reality. The Warden-Commander drew his sword, he and his party would still have to fight their way back out of the city. The process would also open the path for refugees, whether or not they survived past the opening was their own problem. He called Nathaniel, Oghren, and Velanna back to his side. Not one of them uttered a single word about abandoning the city. They already understood what it took to win.

At the gates the stench of rotten flesh permeated the air. Piles of darkspawn laid at the feet of the Wardens. Ones they killed on their way in and fresh ones they hacked down on their way out. Darkspawn blood mixed with the muddy ground water like a bootlegged Joining brew. The land would never be the same. Just past the gates a rumbling caught their attention. A fully armored ogre bounded up the hill towards them.

"How the fuck did they forge all of that?" Oghren shouted.

Lachlan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. If the darkspawn were hiding something like that up their sleeves he had made the right decision.

"Bringing it down," Lachlan called out and switched his sword for his staff.

Everyone in the vicinity scrambled even further to the sidelines. Force magic wasn't his forte, but he had just enough mana to push violently on the ogre's legs and send it toppling head first into the mud. The rest needed to be taken care of by his cohort while he built his mana back up. Oghren rushed in without a second thought, swinging his axe wildly against the head of the beast. Velanna cast a barrier on him before using the powers of the earth to tie the ogre down with a tangle of roots. Nathaniel began sending volley after volley of arrows into the beast, expertly missing the enthusiastic dwarf even without the barrier's help. The ogre struggled against its bonds, but Lachlan used the dregs of his power to help keep it subdued. He didn't like to do it, but he'd down a flask of lyrium later if he really needed it. The ogre finally stopped moving after dozens of arrows wedged themselves in the gaps of its armor and its skull was thoroughly crushed in. The city dwellers around them cheered, they had been saved from the creature and they would live. That would have to be enough because the fires finally flared up throughout the city and choked their cries of elation into those of horror. Flaming orbs flew through the air, landing on thatched roofs and dry paneling, Aidan would go only one degree short of blowing the place up. The Wardens paid no mind and continued their trudge back to Vigil's Keep, they still had to make it before the darkspawn breached the gates. Townspeople fled frantically and only Nathaniel tried to urge them in the opposite direction of the Keep. A wet slap drew Lachlan's attention away from watching the humans scurry like rats. One of them had fallen into the mud by his feet, a child by the looks of it. He sighed and lifted the young girl from the muck, her blonde hair almost completely obscured by the ash and dirt of the day. He used a sleeve to wipe the slush from her face.

"You didn't get any of that in your mouth did you?"

She shook her head, no. Her innocent eyes looked up at him with the fervor of a supplicant. Like he had saved her. And he could not stop the constriction of his chest. Somewhere out there a child he was partly responsible for was growing up without him. He didn’t want that child to live a life where they could not rely on him just as this girl had. Children were never a question in the Circle. The Chantry didn’t want mages to have them and even if they did, they certainly weren’t allowed to keep them or raise them. In the Circle his life and his body never belonged to him. Now the world sat at the tip of his fingers. He decided.

“You’ll be alright then. I promise.”


	8. Mhairi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A farewell instead of a meeting.

The fire in the ashen pit died out long ago. The remains were packed into an urn and interred in the catacombs under the keep. All so that her body could not be misused by demons. It reminded him of phylacteries, the essence of a life packed into a vile because of a small chance demons could misuse the vessel. The cold grey-blue of the room not even unlike the basement of Kinloch Hold. Except this time the blood and betrayal were of a different nature. Cremation awaited all who did not complete the Joining. This tomb might be filled to the brim with the remains of recruits the next time Lachlan returned. 

He had sensed that Mhairi would not survive the ritual. She lived her life too swayed by the need to help others. Wardens wanted glory, power, not just to live, but to take control of their lives. As the magisters did all those centuries ago. That’s why the blood sang to them and waited for them to become one with it. 40 years, they said, is all the life a Warden has in them. Wardens were great liars. Misguiding both recruits and veterans alike. Lachlan knew different, had seen different. Avernus, Utha, and even Sophia whose undecomposed body was the work of no demon. Sacrifice in death had many meanings for a Warden. So that others knew the price and valued their lives, so that their body did not return from the Deep Roads to fight its brethren, and so an Archdemon did not rise up twice. Mhairi couldn’t have known which sacrifice she would make. Lachlan had already escaped two.

Red stringed petals of a flower touched his lips and he left a kiss upon them. He brought the plant from one of the few surviving patches in the arling. He remembered it from a book, a plant that retained its deep red color even in death, never wilting. It looked beautiful draped around Mhairi’s gold tinted urn.

 _One day_ we _shall join_ you. But not any day soon.


End file.
